"Looks like rain"
Apart from the times I have lived in other parts of the country, I have always gone to the same pharmacy. From the age when my brain chemicals exploded in puberty (eleven) and I developed obsessive-compulsive disorder, one particular pharmacy has been my go-to for all of my pilly needs. There is a pharmacist there named Rita who knows me by name and has worked there for at least as long as I’ve been an adult. Even when I’ve lived in the far northeast of the city or so far southeast that I was almost out of town, I’ve returned time and again. The service is excellent, the staff are patient, and they refill prescriptions faster than any other pharmacy I’ve ever been to.
As previously mentioned, my psychiatrist doles out my medication one month at a time, so today was refill day. I’ve been noticing the past few days that the joy I’m feeling seems to colour my interactions with other people, and I’ve had a lot of positive encounters recently. I approached the plastic-barriered counter of the pharmacy - a new-ish addition since Covid started - and had a lovely conversation with a pharmacist named Jenny. She asked me how my day was going so far, and I responded that it had been nice to walk the dogs in the rain. When she wondered out loud if it was supposed to rain all day, I said that I thought it was in the forecast. In fact, the long weekend is predicted to be full of showers.
“Oh shoot,” she said, “my partner and I bought some soil from the mushroom farm and wanted to spread it on our garden tonight.”
I pictured the dirt as soft, dark, and loamy. I could almost feel it in my hands as I imagined the near-invisible tendrils of mycelium running through it - like a tangled string that would lead you out of the Minotaur’s labyrinth.
Also, excuse me? A mushroom farm? In Calgary? Hot damn! I am going to have to do some Googling when I am done writing because that sounds like it’s right up my alley.
The rest of our interaction was equally lovely and I remembered that I live for moments like this. A genuinely pleasant interaction with a stranger renews my faith in humanity, and especially lately when it feels like my faith cup runneth empty.
I also had to get groceries so I grabbed a basket and picked up some essentials. With inflation running rampant and one bag of groceries easily costing $100, I try to be conservative in my spending and not stray too far out of the range of my normal goods. But I do like to try new things occasionally and will sometimes buy a product that seems interesting and/or novel. So today, high on the bonhomie of Jenny and her soon-to-be refreshed garden, I picked up something called “Daniel’s Dill Dip” (made in Alberta, the label gently boasted). I have decided that I will eat it with the carrots I bought and will likely share with the dogs.
Speaking of which, this evening I was going on our nightly walk with one of the dogs when I suddenly noticed that it was no longer raining; the sun was out and the clouds were few and far between. I kept walking, but I spared a thought for Jenny. I hope she got that soil spread on her garden.
P
Photo by me